We Were Friends
by 60sec400
Summary: He would die for Arthur, but he would not die at Arthur's hand. He escapes. And for two years, Arthur cannot find him. He searches and searches until finally a lead. Merlin had learned and grown and is not the man he once was. But magic is magic, and Merlin is magic, and that is what Arthur needs. Roughly canon compliant, but also canon-divergent. AU of Merlin's powers.


**I do not own any of the characters aside from Ahearn and Colvin.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The dungeon was cold. It was very cold, very hard, and very wet. It was also winter in Camelot, which meant that it was even colder underground than usual. There was no blanket, or fire, or food, or drinkable water, or anything of substance that could possibly stop Merlin from dying before he even reached tomorrow morning to be burned. Of course, this was understandable, Uther hated sorcerers and while Merlin wasn't a sorcerer, technically, Uther didn't know that, and so he'd thrown Merlin in the dungeon. Arthur was yelling at the man, Gwen, too, was staring wide eyes at Merlin. But both of them… both of them had been frightened by Merlin blatant display of magic, stumbling back with the rest of the court.

Arthur, regent, was standing there with his father, who had finally made it back into the throne room to at least see his son, even though he'd been escorted by guards. And then Morgana was there and she had been about to kill Arthur, again, and the next thing Merlin knew was that he was on the ground in front of Arthur, his hands splayed out in front of him, strong light, strong magic, pouring from his body, from his hands, to Morgana (but what happened in between he did not know). And then she was gone, and there was a lot of yelling, and Merlin was being carried away.

He heard Arthur yelling, but it was Uther's voice, strong, finally, after so many months, that over-powered Arthur and Gwen and the knights. Uther was commanding him to the dungeon. Uther was condemning him to death. Uther was back.

So Merlin was in the very cold, very hard, very wet dungeon. How long had it been? Three weeks? There'd been no word except for Gwen, who'd visited him to bring him food, the one time he'd gotten it last week, and to tell him he was to be burned at the stake, in front of the whole of Camelot.

"Arthur he… he's not doing anything, Merlin," Gwen whispered. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but he's helping make the preparations. I'm sorry, Merlin."

Merlin just shook his head. "He's faking, Gwen. He's just faking."

He ignored the sad look in her eyes. "Uther he… he seems to have gotten things back. I think, you know, seeing magic, seeing you, it opened his eyes." She paused. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin sighed. "You see what happened Gwen? I couldn't risk it." He laughed bitterly. "See how that turned out."

She reached through the bars and placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort, and that was the last time he'd seen her. Slowly Merlin began to believe what she'd said about Arthur. The guards looks, the way no one had come to him, none of the Knights had been to see him, no Gaius, no Gwen, and no… no Arthur.

He was to burn tomorrow, but Merlin was determined to stop it. He'd give anything for Arthur, but he was angry with himself for knowing that he still would give anything. But he would not burn… Merlin didn't even know if he could burn, but that was a question for another time.

* * *

Merlin woke up to rough arms grabbing him from his corner in the cell. He was too weak to stand, but they pulled him up to his feet and pushed him forward. He fell into the bars, and a guard behind him cursed and pulled him up. Merlin caught a glimpse of Arthur standing there with his arms crossed and a poisonous glare on his face, directed towards the Warlock.

"Hey!" Merlin yelled as they dropped him into the wall.

"Shot up, sorcerer," a guard sneered, shoving Merlin roughly.

"Be careful," Arthur shouted, and for a second Merlin thought he was worried, but a look over his shoulder toward the Prince let that dream go. "Can't have him bleeding all over the citadel courtyard."

Merlin made a scoffing sound as they began to drag him up the stairs.

He'd still die for Arthur.

But Merlin would not die at Arthur's hand.

They dragged him out, the sunlight was harsh against his eyes, and the crowd parted. He recognized many of the faces. Gwen and Gaius were there, but behind Gaius Merlin saw a very, very familiar face. Hunith. Her hand was on Gwen's shoulder, and her eyes were wide as she stared at her hungry, tired, cold, wet, son, who was being led up the pyre to be burned for protecting the Prince he was destined to protect. They made eye contact briefly, and Merlin shook his head slowly. He didn't want her to watch this. She stared defiantly at him.

They tied him, his arms above his head, his feet barely gracing the floor. He couldn't breathe.

He heard Uther's voice from the balcony. He saw the torch. Merlin could feel his mother's stare. He could feel Arthur staring at his back.

Murmurs raced through the crowd as the torch set down.

Merlin couldn't breathe.

The wood began to burn in a circle around him. He stared at his mother. The flames licked higher. Her eyes were wide. Why couldn't he _breathe_? He is still staring at Hunith and his eyes flicker to Gwen's. She is crying, sobbing, holding onto Hunith's hand on her shoulder. Gaius is not looking at Merlin at all, staring off to behind the Pyre where Merlin cannot see. He can't breathe.

Hunith is crying. Merlin can't breathe. He can feel the heat, but he supposed that he had for a while. It touches his toes, his shins. He lets out a cry. He can't breathe. The faces of crowd get blurred together by thick, grey smoke. He can barely see past the glimpses of light to his mother, to Gwen. The fire is raging, it's burning, and it's hot. Merlin still can't breathe, he's coughing and spluttering and screaming all at once and it's terrible.

The smoke is in his lungs. He can hear loud shriek-like sobs from outside, from somewhere, but soon he doesn't care. He can't breathe. And the fire is so hot, so hot! Why is he burning? Why did Arthur hate him?

It reached his chest. Why isn't he dead?

It's too hot… too hot…

And with one last, final, ear-splitting, magic-filled scream, Merlin is gone.

He can breathe.

* * *

Arthur doesn't recall what happened, really, he remembers magic, Merlin, and the magic coming from Merlin. Arthur recalls yelling at Uther, begging him to rethink his decision about sending Merlin to the dungeons. And the guards take him to his quarters, and he's locked up. And suddenly, Arthur is angry at Merlin, undoubtedly, irrevocably, angry at Merlin— no, the sorcerer. Merlin betrayed him. His father was right. His father was right. His father… Uther was right. It took three weeks for Arthur's anger be directed toward Merlin. But something… something wasn't right. He didn't really feel it, but Uther was ravenous, so angry that a sorcerer had been by Arthur, by his precious son, for so long, for years.

Gaius was questioned, but Uther didn't think that the man could know. How could he? Gaius was old. Merlin was young and a sorcerer, casting a spell for the man to remain ignorant wasn't difficult. Eventually, Arthur was given a different manservant only a day after, who did all the things Merlin did, except ten times better. Arthur couldn't help but begin to be resentful of the manservant.

Why had Merlin lied? Why had he betrayed him?

When Uther announced Merlin's execution, Arthur rejoiced.

But it still felt wrong.

And it continued feeling wrong until the execution. Merlin was escorted out by guards. As he walked out up onto the pyre, Merlin's eyes never left one spot in the crowd. As they put down the torch, his eyes never left. Arthur followed his gaze, thinking that the sorcerer was scheming with another.

Hunith.

Wrong. Uther was wrong.

Arthur's head cleared.

And he realized his friend was burning. Hunith was sobbing, crying, holding on to Gwen. Gaius was staring straight at Arthur, whose face was a mask of horror. Merlin was burning.

There was screams.

Oh god. He rushed forward, pushing through the ground. But then Merlin screamed, really screamed, and there was a blast of power that pushed everyone back. The fire was gone.

And so was Merlin.

* * *

It was another three months before Arthur saw Merlin again. His father had passed, killed by Odin. But Arthur went searching, and searching, and searching for the boy, for his friend until word came from an outlying village that a boy with Merlin's description had been spotted from the Camelot scouts. Arthur took the knights and some other men to find the boy.

They found him by a waterfall.

He was sitting on a rock overlooking the water, a small fire burning in the middle of the air. Arthur and Gwaine were the only two to have spotted him. They walked forward, creeping through the trees.

Arthur just wanted his friend back. But, he had realized during Merlin's time away, that Arthur didn't know much about him. He didn't even know Merlin's age, or favorite color, or food, or… anything, really, just that Merlin liked… had liked annoying Arthur.

"Merlin," Arthur said, stepping out of the wood.

Merlin turned to look at Arthur with shock until he narrowed his eyes and stood up, his little floating fire fading into the air. "Arthur," the boy said, and for a moment, it sounded like Merlin again, but the steely look in his eyes and the distrust that lay behind them was not Merlin.

Arthur took a tentative step forward. "Please, listen to me. We've been looking for you for ages, we—."

And then a shout from the other end of the wood interrupted them, one of Arthur's men. Merlin and Arthur's head snapped back at the same time to the voice. It was a man, a new one, only Knighted several months ago, and his crossbow was out and he was pointing it at Merlin.

"No!" Arthur shouted, rushing forward.

The arrow was shot at the manservant. But Merlin threw his hands up into the air and the arrow stopped, a slight shimmer around it. Then he made his right hand into a fist and crushed the arrow in half in the air, dropping it. The air grew still. Another shout from another man, who lunged a spear.

"Stop it!" Arthur shouted again. "I order you as your Prince!"

The spear made it closer, but Merlin's eyes flashed gold and a line of fire erupted in front of him, separating the two sides.

"Merlin, please!"

Merlin's eyes blazed with the fire. "Looking for me, eh? Why? To bring me back, to finish the job?" The fire rage higher, throwing back the men. "Think that maybe I'd still be your friend and talk, and then you try to kill me?" Merlin shook his head. Arthur swore he saw a tear. "You tried to make me burn…" the boy said, his voice losing all authority and power it held a mere two seconds ago. "…I thought we… we were friends?"

"Merlin, please—." But the boy was gone, the fire fading into nothing.

Arthur slammed his sword into the dirt and turned on the knight, getting up into his face. "What was that? What do you think you're doing?"

The knight's eyes widened. "Our duty was to catch the sorcerer, sire. Is that not what I was trying to accomplish?"

Arthur stared him down a little and felt Gwaine place a hand on his shoulder. "His name… is Merlin," Arthur bit out between his teeth. They left the knight there. When they got back to Camelot, Arthur told his father of the man who'd died by bandits.

It was another six months before Arthur spotted his friend. Uther had died, and Arthur was in his place as King. He was very far away from Camelot, visiting a city's center in a land across the large channel, discussing the occurrences of attacks from the Saxons in the south. He was standing in the market with Percival and Gwaine, Elyan behind him, watching as the people moved around. The city itself was huge, much larger than Camelot and it's city beneath the citadel. They watched fascinated as the people moved around them, speaking a language much different than their own.

Arthur stood by a dealer of spices, his arms crossed, when he spotted the familiar dark hair. Merlin was standing there by a small table full of jewelry and trinkets, his face serious as the man he was talking to gestured to a peculiar little piece of jewelry. Merlin began to look skeptical and cast a nervous look over his shoulder. Just as Arthur opened his mouth to shout the sorcerers name, several guards ran forward from the castle. Merlin jumped almost a foot in the air, slamming some coins onto the table and grabbing the necklace. He turned to stare at the guards for a second before he bolted in the opposite direction.

"Arrêtez!" a guards yelled. "Arrêtez-le tout de suite!"

Merlin was running before being trapped by a crowd of guards. The street had cleared, leaving Arthur and his knights standing there by the spice table and the guards from the palace.

Merlin didn't notice the King of Camelot, staring angrily at the guards. His bag bulged next to him and Arthur didn't recognize it. The boy, man, had grown taller since their last escapade and Arthur noted a bit of stubble on the sorcerers chin.

"Return what 'ou have stolen now," the guard said, speaking in a language that Arthur understood.

Stolen?

The bag.

Merlin's eyes flared with anger. "I haven't stolen anything!" he exclaimed, glancing back at the guards with spears behind him. "You're the one that stole it!"

"What 'ou've taken is a prize of the King and the Queen, return it now and your death will only be prolonged," the guard bit back.

Arthur could've sworn Merlin rolled his eyes.

"The dragon egg does not belong in some dodgy king's cellar to be admired. It's alive, it breathes!"

A dragon egg? No, Uther had wiped them all out in the land. But… perhaps other lands still had them. Uther's hand hadn't reached their. He held no authority here. He never had.

"It is a prize!" the guard exclaimed, taking two steps forward.

"Living things are not prizes!" Merlin burst, his eyes flashing gold. A wave of gold shot out from the ex-manservant, knocking even Arthur and the knights down to the ground. They broke the table, bowls and spices falling down on them. Arthur laid there for a second in pain before he groggily sat up to see Merlin and the egg gone. The guards were yelling.

Arthur turned to Gwine and Elyan, his face puzzled. "I think… I think fate hates with us."

* * *

For a year, Merlin's whereabouts remained unknown to Arthur and the court of Camelot. Magic, finally, had been made legal and relations with the Druids began almost immediately. There was no word from Merlin, but the Druids assured him (leaving Arthur somewhat confused) that his manservant would return.

"Irreid, you know almost nothing of my manservant. You've never met him, and yet you assure me of his returning," Arthur said to one of the Druid leaders one day.

Irreid laughed. "Trust me, Sire. Your manservant… appears loyal. I do not imagine he would abandon you for much longer."

Arthur frowned. "Perhaps not, but I find it best to not let this pass. Merlin was betrayed, by Camelot but also by me. If there is anyway to grasp a chance to seek him, should we not take it?"

Irreid paused a moment before looking out over the land. The city had begun to grow, and Camelot had already begun relations with Essitir to remain an open trading and border policy. A new King had risen after two years of civil war after Cenred's death, and he seemed to be far more capable of ruling. But Camelot had grown. Its land reached as far down as the eastern shores and up north just before the Moors became the hills and the hills the highlands.

The Gauls to the east of them were open to trading and so a new market and living section was being built on the great city. The druids were welcome to their own section, though many preferred to live as they always had– in the woods. The Saxons were entering from the north, invading and leeching off of Albion's resources. There'd been hardly a word from Merlin, but reports of a Sorcerer protecting some of the bordering lands was reported. And many abandoned castles were seen to be lit up with burning fires. Arthur had demanded his soldiers investigate the fires but even before the reports arrived, the castle had long since been abandoned again. Arthur marked "better communication" on his list of things-to-fix-in-Camelot.

"I believe you will find each other once again. The part of the destiny in which magic will return to Albion has not quite come to pass," Irreid inquired, still frowning.

Arthur looked at the Druid curiously. "I was not under that impression. Magic is free to use in Camelot."

"Camelot, yes. But Albion, no. We must unite as one people, especially against these Saxon invaders. We cannot do this until we are one kingdom, one united people with magic of the old religion and the new religion as one."

Arthur squirmed in his throne. "I'll never bow down to the Triple goddess. I did once, and that was the last time."

Irreid laughed. "I'm not asking you too. But we must be one people. Emrys is near. I feel him even from here, his reluctance… yes, but he will return. It is destiny, and even he with all his power may not escape it. He did this to himself."

And Arthur got the feeling that Irreid was finished with the conversation, despite the questions flicking through the Kings head.

* * *

Arthur and Gwaine weren't considerably far from Camelot. Only a two day's ride away from where they were. A meeting with one of the smaller kingdoms within Albion had prompted their leave from Camelot. The journey was a three day trip with healthy horses, and they were already toward the northern end of the border toward Caerleon before they decided to take their rest and continue their journey in the morning at first light.

By the time they were all set up, fire in place, the two sat down and stared at the glowing embers. It had grown dark, and the hum of the forest behind them eased them into relaxation. Arthur scoured their surroundings several times, paced, and then finally sat down across from Gwaine. The Knight gave a small smile- things were increasingly difficult with the absence of Merlin. Gwaine, Arthur knew, had wanted to follow Merlin when they'd found the sorcerer before, but it'd been a year and then some since then, and Gwaine only grew more discouraged. Arthur wasn't sure what to think. Irreid had been certain Merlin would return soon, but the days dragged on and the isle was large, it could be ages before Merlin was heard from again. He could be far northeast toward the moors or even north to the Highlands where the Gaels and Picts were located.

Arthur would never have guessed Merlin could survive out on his own, but with magic, especially powerful magic, who knew what the man could do?

"You think we'll ever find him?"

Arthur sighed and stared deeply into the fire. "Not if he doesn't want us too, I don't think."

Gwaine frowned. "Yes, but of course. But why wouldn't he? I understand he… he would've burned. But you assume with all his power he can just check and see, or read our minds?" Gwaine paused. "The Angles?"

"What about them?"

"Could he have travelled east toward them, toward the Channel?"

"Perhaps, but there's been no word. I'm sure he would've stopped in Ealdor if he had, that is too the east, but I haven't heard any word from Hunith."

"Coimhead an seo, luchd-siubhail!"

Arthur and Gwaine were up in an instant, swords drawn.

"Who goes there?" Arthur yells, peering into the darkness around them. Night had risen and the moon barely cast its light through the trees. Gwaine reached down to grab a torch before he rose again with his sword up.

Before them came two men in brightly colored clothing. Their hair was long and a dark black. Their clothing, although bright, was a mixture of striped patterns. One let out a whoop and the other opened his hands to show he was unarmed, although Arthur and Gwaine could see the sword hanging by his side.

"Tha sinn a 'ciallachadh cron sam bith!"

"What did he say?"

Arthur frowned and furrowed his brow. He stepped forward. "Brittonic, do you speak it?"

The first one, the one with his hands up, bowed slightly. "Apologies, Briton. I speak your language. I ask only peace."

Arthur motioned for Gwaine to lower his sword and lowed his as well. "Your names?"

"Ahearn and my companion is Colvin, we come from the Northern hills."

"You're Gaels?"

"Of a sort."

"I am King Arthur of Camelot, and this is one of my Knights, Sir Gwaine. What are Gaels doing so far south from the Highlands. I had thought you remained up there," Arthur said, confusion seeping into his voice. Ahearn smiled.

"I have a message for you, Sire," Ahearn said. "My companion does not speak Brittonic, but I fair well enough. The message is this, 'Sibh a 'sireadh charaid bithidh e ga lorg agus sibh a 'teicheadh airson fhathast. Tha am fearann Tillidh dè Buinid. Tha sinn bhon a Tuath ach tha e ann am Deas, agus às a seo gheibh sibh am fearann fhèin, agus anail a 'fuireach, a' feitheamh air a shon fhèin mathanas.' Ye who seeks his friend shall find him and ye who flees shall remain. The land shall return what belongs. We are from the North but he is in the South, and from here you will find the land itself, breathing and living, waiting for it's own forgiveness. You're friend is at the stones. There you will find him, waiting for you. He has changed and learned much. You must prepare yourself."

"Merlin?" Arthur inquired, just as Gwaine demanded to know what sent them.

"The Land needs balance, King Arthur. We were sent by it and shall soon return to our own Land."

"You're… not Gaels?"

"We are but descendents," replied Ahearn, with a smile. "From Clan Mackenzie we hail."

"Clan? I don't-."

"We do not expect you to, Sire. I bid you luck on your journey and may God have mercy on your soul. _Mar sin leat_." Ahrean and Colvin bowed and soon the darkness had swept them up into her arms. The forest was silent, and Gwaine and Arthur stood there for what seemed like hours before either moved.

"I don't understand," Gwaine said, finally collapsing in the ground. "What's a clan?" He looked at Arthur, confused.

"That's what you got out of that? These strange men from the Highlands come and tell us that Merlin is at the stones? How daft can they be? The entire world is a stone! We live on rock! There's stones everywhere!" Arthur kicks a pebble in a display of very un-King-like anger. It hits a tree and falls to the ground. Arthur follows suit, slumped over up against a stump.

"The stones. I don't know, I never have heard of any stones toward the South of Camelot. That'd be Nemeth? Yes?" Gwaine asked, staring deeply out into the darkness.

"Nemeth, yes. There must be something significant about the stones. Think, Gwaine. What could be to the south of us that would draw Merlin to Nemeth of all places?"

The silence stretched between them and the question went unanswered.

Gwaine laid his head back against the tree. "Stones…" he muttered. "I don't know."

* * *

Their trip to Caerleon fared well and soon they were back in Camelot. Arthur called a meeting the next day, demanding his knights to meet him at the Round Table. He sat there when they arrived, Gwen already to his left. The right seat sat empty. Arthur told them of the Not-Gaels who had interrupted their journey to Caerleon and of the message they had given the King. Gwen suggested they heed the Gaels warning and journey South, all of them, to see if Merlin was truly at the stones.

"But what are the stones?"

"The Stones to the south, that's what he told us," Gwaine said, glancing at Arthur. "But we've thought about what it could mean. There are stones all over. Gaius?"

The old man sighed. He looked weary and unrested. Arthur knew that Merlin's absence had taken it's own mental and physical toll on the physician. He was quieter but far more brash. He had sat down with Arthur and took a map. They ruled out all the places it would be obvious for Merlin to go, including Ealdor, Scarborough, Elmet and Mercia. These were all areas Merlin had had either terribly bad experiences or would be too obvious. Smaller cities were ruled out simply due to them being too difficult to hide in, but also easier for people to spot and recognize him. Big cities were checked and messages were sent out, but no one saw anything.

"Perhaps," Gaius said, "I could do some research. I have a thought in mind of what the stones may be, but I could be quite wrong. 'Y Creigiau Uchel'. The High Rocks toward the south. They sit in a circle and follow the pattern of the sun. It is a very old and very magical place. Merlin never studied its significance though, I doubt he would be there."

"What is its significance, Gaius?" Leon asked, leaning forward.

"Well, the stones have an outer and inner circle. The magic is centered there on the summer solstice specifically and made stronger. But it is protected by strong magic, and only those with a connection to the Earth may enter with its permission," Gaius explained. "I do believe Merlin possesses strong magic, but as potent as the Earth? I hardly can say."

"It could be a trap," Percival suggested, glancing at Arthur. "Perhaps the Gaels were not Gaels, but spies from a neighboring kingdom. Gauwant? Or Mercia? They could be trying to weaken Camelot by forcing us after something they know we are after. Nemeth could declare war, and Mercia or Essetir or any country for that matter could attack us." He glanced around the table.

"Then we will go disguised," Arthur stated, his word final. "We prepare for the morning."

* * *

The trip was long. One month and they were only so far from the The High Stones. Gaius had been certain that this was what the Gaels had spoken of, and had warned Arthur to never turn around once they reached the outer markers. Arthur hadn't had the time to ask what the markers were, but he felt as if he would know once he saw them that they were close.

And close they were. Over the hill, Arthur could see two large stones not unlike those in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The figures were several feet tall and held long battle axes. They could only be seen the day before the solstice and only entered right before dawn. So they made camp on the hill and waited for night to pass.

When Leon woke to wake everyone up, they packed up and waited outside the stones. They were right on time. As the sky grew brighter, the stones began to shimmer. "Are time is coming, men," Arthur said, watching intently for the first light to peek over the horizon.

Three minutes…

Two minutes…

One minute…

"Now, we cross!"

They marched through the stones and a warm sensation overcame them. The countryside was washed in gold, and suddenly streams of light flitted around them like a river. Below the hill was a circle of stones. In the center was another circle, and in that was a human figure. Arthur's breath hitched, but he kept them moving. He could hear Gwaine's excitement behind them. They descended down the hill and stood outside the stones.

" _Statue,_ ", Arthur called, holding up his fist. The figure in the center did not move. He was sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs spread out far. Arthur was close enough to see that Merlin's eyes were closed and he looked younger than when Arthur had last seen him almost a year ago in Gaul.

"I will go, you will wait. This is between Merlin and I," Arthur commanded, and while he could feel his Knight's frustration, they stood by and waited. Arthur walked further into the stones, the bits of light streaming around him and into a circle around Merlin.

Arthur was only a few feet from his now. "Mer-."

"You're here."

Arthur paused. "I am here, Merlin. We've been looking for you."

"To kill me?"

"Never."

Merlin's eyes opened, and Arthur was struck with the color of gold. The color of the sunrise and of a million goblets, and the color of a sunset that cast it's final light on the world before it would rise again once morning and shed it's wisdom on the world. Arthur could see no pupil, no white, but only gold. He could not tell if Merlin was staring at him.

"You say never."

"Do you find I am dishonest?"

A pause. "No, you _are_ telling the truth."

Ahearn had said Merlin had changed and had learned much. Suddenly, Arthur was curious of what Merlin had discovered.

Merlin sighed, the first real human thing about him in those past moments. "I suppose you are here to return me to Camelot. How did you get through the stones?"

"Gaius said that we must enter at the crack of dawn, and if the Earth did not find us worthy, we would be banished forever from the Earth."

"A risk, on your part."

"I suppose. Worth it, though, for you."

"You're not angry at me, are you Merlin? Please, let me explain. I know this was almost… two years ago. But I was angry at first, of course to find your magic. To know you'd betrayed Camelot. But the moment I got there and finally… saw what I had inadvertently done. I saw Hunith, I saw Gwen and Gaius and…" Arthur drew a deep breath. "I saw you, burning. I heard your screaming. I… forgive me, Merlin. I had failed you. I was angry."

Suddenly, Merlin was in Arthur's face. The gold had changed from a sunrise to a burning fire, and Merlin's eyes were angry. He leaned forward and the air around hims cackled with lightning. Arthur retreated a single step. "You were angry? Was I not human to you before that moment? Was I not your friend of five years? Angry because, for a moment, I had betrayed everything!? I was _burning_ , Arthur. And you were angry because your feelings were hurt!?" The lightning burst into flames and the light sizzled out around the two.

"You had betrayed Camelot!"

"I would've died for you Arthur, but I would never die at your hand!" Merlin snapped, his eyes furious. "If I had betrayed Camelot, then so be it. But I would have hoped… for a moment… you would have found some solution. That being friends for so long… having something would've convinced you otherwise." Merlin's voice grew quieter and sadder, and he suddenly looked so lost.

"I've been angry too, Arthur. At destiny. Fate. Magic. Anything and everything that was to blame. I've traipsed around the land looking for answers for anything. Old castles, libraries, scrolls. Even the old Roman ruins and trading settlements on the rivers. Anything with information. But I've only found out more about… about myself and why I'm on this earth… this planet." Merlin was looking down at his hands, as if horrified to see them. Arthur stared at his friend's hands. "It all pointed to you, Arthur. Everything I do is for you. And if this was foretold, then it was all to help you."

Arthur stared at his friend. The man… boy… looked so hopelessly confused and scared.

"Merlin, please. Return. We are your friends. If this was foretold, then I know I'm meant to find you and bring you back home. Not to burn, not to serve me, not to be angry at me, but to be my friend. If you are so willing."

"I did always say you'd never survive without me," Merlin joked, and Arthur smiled.

"I wondered how I did too."

* * *

"I was created. My soul is of the Earth. It has always existed and it will always continue to exist. My soul… I… this god that I was, created this body to form Albion. It was foretold by the ancients that I would come to Earth and reunite the kingdom with the Once and Future King. I am of the Earth, and the Earth of me. I am Magic, and therefore magic is the Earth," Merlin explained.

"You're not human." Arthur wasn't sure who said it, but he knew it wasn't a question.

"No, I am Magic. An embodiment in human form. But no, this form is not human. It was not created the same way as one, nor was it ever intended to die as one. Hunith believes I was hers, but I am no more her's than I am another's." Merlin frowned. "I'm not human."

"You look human, and act it," Gwaine said. "That must count for something."

But Merlin, this strange new Merlin, only scowled. "I have memories of being a spirit, of being magic. I adapted, but my true form looks nothing like this. Although I may choose it too. This form may never die, it is bound to the Earth until the Earth fades."

"Immortal."

Merlin smirked. "Emrys."

"It means Immortal, yes?" Gwen asked, her voice light. But Arthur could see the fear in her eyes. The fear of this… person before them.

"In the Druidic language, yes. They foretold it. I simply never knew what it meant. I hadn't regained the knowledge of magic… well, I hadn't unlocked the knowledge of magic. The stones helped. I think. They allowed me to know true magic. You arrived at the end of my spell, though, Arthur."

"You were performing a spell?"

Merlin leaned back against the column and looked off into the distance. "The knowledge of true magic needs not to fall in another's hand. I took it in me, it is where I regained my old self. I'm still Merlin, still… this man you knew. I just simply know more about who this man is… who I am. I drew in the Old Religion. It cannot be released to it's full potential into the world until I die when the Earth fades. Magic is now… faded a little, something that's potent and very much powerful, but different. It's to protect men. The Old Religion is powerful, and it is…" he cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Alive. It asked me to pull it in. It is for the best. For protection and because it was going to happen anyway. It is a cycle."

"I don't understand."

"It was a little over the head for such a clotpole," Merlin replied, shooting a wide grin in Arthur's direction.

"If I didn't have an idiot explaining it, it'd be easier to understand."

Merlin laughed. "You'll understand when you return."

"I do have a question," Arthur said, ignoring Merlin's comment about him returning.

"When don't you?" Gwaine asked.

Arthur pushed forward. "How did those men know where you were?"

Merlin frowned. "What men?"

"The Gaels."

"Gaels?"

"Yes."

"From the Highlands."

"I've no clue what you're talking about. Perhaps it was the Old Religion that sent them for you to find me," Merlin suggested, his voice growing higher. He shrugged before he slouched back into the column again.

Arthur thought deeply and frowned. "The men appeared to be from… a different time. As if they traveled back from some future point. They said words I had never heard before and wore strange clothing. There wasn't any chainmail, if they were knights, they were horrible knights. They had on… a strange fabric of different colors?"

A pause. "Let's blame it on the Old Religion."

* * *

Merlin had changed. He hummed strange tunes that he said came from times of the past and future. He muttered in languages unheard of and referenced battles that hadn't happened yet in kingdoms that had yet to exist. His magic was potent and powerful and there were only several occasions where Merlin truly encompassed the god he had been. But Arthur had been led on a journey himself and Merlin been on his own. Both had found what they were searching for.

Arthur was seeking Merlin.

Merlin was Magic.

And Magic was waiting for Arthur to accept it.

 _Fin._

* * *

 **Translations:**

Arrêtez-le tout de suite; Stop it immediately

Coimhead an seo, luchd-siubhail; Look here, travellers!

Tha sinn a 'ciallachadh cron sam bith; We mean no harm!

Mar sin leat; Farewell.

Statue; Halt!


End file.
